


as the sunset replaces the light fading from your eyes

by apathetic_exe



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alexis | Quackity Angst, Alexis | Quackity-centric, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm writing this instead of sleeping, No shipping, father are you proud of me, hahaha have fun, i wrote most of this on my 2ds my hands HURT, please give me clout i need it more than you (joking), quackity comforts everyone, quackity has wings, quackity snaps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27598802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apathetic_exe/pseuds/apathetic_exe
Summary: Red, blue, and white. Those three colors flash in Quackity's vision every time he closes his eyes, every time he thinks back to the day of the festival. The booms echo in his ears and the screams haunt his every step.But everyone is hurting just like he is, and he can't bear to watch the people around him crumble, even if he doesn't get any comfort himself.Aka a version of the aftermath of the Manburg festival where Quackity comforts everyone :)
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Dave | Technoblade, Alexis | Quackity & Eret, Alexis | Quackity & GeorgeNotFound, Alexis | Quackity & Niki | Nihachu, Alexis | Quackity & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Alexis | Quackity & TommyInnit, Alexis | Quackity & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 342





	1. Eret

_Schlatt gripped the back of Quackity's suit, a dangerous smile spread across his face. In that moment, Quackity was a mere body shield-- someone expendable, someone who had to take the damage that Schlatt wasn't willing to. He hated it._

_Schlatt was the President, and the monster. Those two words meant the same thing to Quackity now._

_Technoblade lifted the crossbow, saying something while loading a rocket into the weapon. Quackity didn't pay attention to his words; he didn't care much about what the anarchist had to say. He was staring at Tubbo, whose face was twisted into an expression of terror and confusion. Quackity couldn't blame him._

_Red, blue, and white. Was the red blood or fireworks? Quackity couldn't tell. He didn't want to._

_He burned. His wings burned as he wrapped them around himself in a vain attempt to protect his body. His eyes burned as the three colors were seared into his mind. He was thrown back, his head banging into the small wall of the podium._

_As he lied there, dazed, he could hear more explosions and more screaming and more crying and pain, pain, pain. He sobbed as he heard Tommy pearl in, heard his voice screaming for Tubbo without getting a response back._

_He couldn't take this. He was the Vice President, right? He should get a say in things... right? Just because Schlatt was the President didn't mean he could call all the shots._

_Quackity hopes he burns in hell._

_Quackity hopes for a lot of things, and none of them ever come true._

_Quackity blacks out._

\---*---

His eyes flutter open, and he sits up, gasping for air. What the fuck just happened? He looks around at the room he's in. He forgot that this was where he last slept-- Eret's castle. He hasn't slept in so long. 

He slowly stands from the bed, not sure whether Eret had died in the chaos or not. He didn't want to confront the king and have to explain why he respawned in his castle. The only excuse he could think of was the truth-- he couldn't find a bed to sleep in one night and just broke in to sleep there. Yeah, yeah, it isn't that hard to find a few sheep and wood, but he's lazy, okay?

He creeps out of the room, cautiously looking around the hallway and slinking toward the open doorway to outside. He almost makes it before he hears a deep, familiar voice and freezes. "Quackity?"

He slowly turns and jumps. Blinding, pure white eyes stare back at him. It's kind of terrifying, but before he can scream, Eret straightens up and slips his sunglasses back on hurriedly. "Uh, s-sorry. I forgot that my glasses don't respawn on me."

Quackity opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens his mouth again. "What- um. What the _fuck_ _?"_

Eret looks away, fidgeting nervously. "What are you doing here?" he asks, completely ignoring Quackity's obvious confusion. He decides he'll ask him about the eyes later.

"This is where I slept last." Quackity gets out, still a little shocked. Eret tilts his head. "It's not what you think! I wasn't spying on you or anything. I just couldn't find a bed and uh... I borrowed it!" Quackity laughs nervously, a bit scared of the man in front of him. 

"Oh. Okay." Eret shrugs and backs away, sitting down onto his couch. Quackity stares at him. Was the king going to let him go, just like that? Quackity noticed the slump of his shoulders, the way Eret let out a long, shaky breath.

"You alright, Eret?" 

Eret scoffs. “After that mess, is _anyone_ alright?”

”...no.” Quackity, without thinking, plops down next to him and settles his left wing onto Eret’s back comfortingly. He doesn’t know why he does it, but he can’t help but try and lighten up the mood when he sees that someone is down. Maybe it’s his weird bird-hybrid instincts. 

Yeah. It has to be that. It’s not like he’s a good person anyway.

Eret looks a little surprised, but doesn’t push Quackity away. He slumps over and puts his head in his hands, suddenly emotional. “What the fuck just happened, Quackity? What...”

”I don’t know.” Quackity says, sighing. He feels the tears coming and stops himself before they slip. He can’t cry now, especially not in front of someone else. “It wasn’t planned. At least, Schlatt didn’t tell me anything about it.” _He never tells me these things._

They’re silent for a few moments, the tense atmosphere calming down a bit as they both process what’s happened and what it means for the future. 

“I hate him, you know.” 

Eret startles and glances over. “Who?”

”Schlatt.” Quackity has never admitted it before, but he feels like letting off steam and the only way he can do that right now is admit his feelings. Damn, that sounds really sad, actually. Maybe he should just punch something instead, then at least he’d seem less depressed.

”Oh.” Eret eventually replies, hesitant. “Is there, uh... a specific reason for that?”

Quackity’s eyes darken. _He fucking used me, Eret. He’s still using me. He never tells me anything, and he never listens to my opinions or decisions. I’m the Vice President, right? But that’s kind of an empty title here, isn’t it. I’ve never gotten a say in things, and I’m so fucking tired of it._

That’s what he wants to say. He wants to scream it, he wants to cry it, he wants to let the world hear his pain.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he tells him, “I dunno. He’s just a dick, I guess.”

Eret huffs a small laugh and smiles bitterly. “I left my family for this kingship.” He gestures over to the huge throne halfheartedly. “In the war for L’Manburg’s independence. I betrayed them all just so I could have a kingdom with no subjects or power.” Quackity notices that the light that always seems to come from behind Eret’s sunglasses dim. “I still regret it to this day. Maybe things would have turned out different if I hadn’t...”

Tears can now be seen making their way slowly down the king’s face as he looks down, silent. Quackity scoots closer and pats his back with a sigh. He didn’t really know what to do. How the hell do you help people who’ve been through a lot more than you have? 

“Hey, come with me.” Quackity suddenly stands, holding out his hand. Eret looks up at him, eyebrows raised. Surprisingly, he gets up and follows Quackity out of the castle, rubbing the tears from his face. 

They walk for a while, chatting idly, before Quackity comes to a stop in the middle of a field. “You see that up there?” he points up to the sky.

Eret cranes his head up, squinting. He can barely make out a small island floating in the dimming sky. “Why’d you take me here?”

Quackity smiles at him and goes behind Eret. Before the tall man can say anything, Quackity's arms are wrapped around his torso, and they’re soaring into the sky. “H-holy _shit_.” 

Eret is speechless as he marvels at the world around him, Quackity’s wings taking them higher and higher. They make it all the way to the little island in the sky, which Eret realizes isn’t actually so small— it can fit around ten people on it, he guesses.

He turns to Quackity, awe-struck. The bird hybrid beams at him and sighs contentedly, sitting at the edge and swinging his legs. "This is my little safe spot. It's kinda turned into a place where I can get away from Schlatt for a while and relax from my 'VP duties'." Quackity says the last part with air quotes, rolling his eyes. He pats the spot next to him and Eret sits down, looking out over the Dream SMP. 

Eret's posture visibly relaxes as he admires the beautiful sunset, a gentle breeze lightly tugging at his hair. He takes off his sunglasses to get the full colors, his unnatural eyes somehow less harsh as they glow softly in the light of the sinking star. "This is... this is amazing." he breathes. 

"Yeah." Quackity hums, eyes flicking over all the buildings of Manburg, which are bathed in orange by the setting sun. "I've never taken anyone up here before, since it's kind of a secret. But," Quackity shrugs, "You're pretty good at keeping secrets, yeah?" 

Eret nods and continues to watch the sunset until its light completely fades and the stars stand out brightly in the dark sky. Quackity stands, brushing his pants off and offering Eret a hand. "Let's get back. Unfortunately, I never thought to bring food up here, and I crave Niki's pastries." 

Eret chuckles a little and lets Quackity help him up. Quackity once again wraps his arms under Eret's and takes off, spiraling down to the ground steadily and landing with only a slight stumble. He isn't really used to flying with someone in his arms. 

Eret looks back up at the island, which once again looks much smaller than it actually is. "Thank you for that, Quackity." he says softly, pushing his sunglasses back on and smiling. "I... I really needed it." 

"Hm? Oh, no problemo, mi amigo!" Quackity grins and stuffs his hands into his pockets, starting to walk back to Manburg. He sighs. "It was nice." 


	2. Fundy

_Schlatt suddenly bursted into a fit of laughter, startling everyone in the audience and on the podium._

_“S-schlatt?” Tubbo said uncertainly, fidgeting awkwardly. “What’s so funny? Haha...”_

_”Oh, Tubbo.” Schlatt finally calmed down and stared at the boy, violent hate clearly seen in his gaze from where Quackity stood. “Tubbo. My friend, my right hand man.”_

_”Y-yes, Schlatt?” Tubbo said, gulping._

_”I know what you’ve been up to, Tubbo.” Schlatt’s friendly, playful tone immediately turned dark and angry. “I know that you’re a traitor. It’s the only explanation— all the long absences, the fucking tunnels—“_

_”I-I don’t know what you mean, Schlatt.” Tubbo stammered, eyes wide and flicking over to the roof of a building._

_Schlatt slowly shook his head, and handing Quackity a stack of concrete, the President started building around Tubbo, indicating that Quackity should help him. Quackity hesitantly placed a few blocks._

_Soon, Tubbo was completely trapped in a yellow concrete cube._

_The audience below whispered among themselves, unsure._

_”Would ya look at that. Tubbo in a box.” Schlatt sounded amused, enjoying the boy’s confusion and fear._

_He turned to the audience and gazed at a man in the front row. “Technoblade!” Friendly tone. Dangerous eyes. “Why don’t you come up to the podium and stand with us?”_

-—*—-

Quackity returns to Manburg, exhausted from flying Eret up and down from the island. He’s never done that before, but he supposes it’s good he got some exercise for once. 

He and Eret part ways at the Prime Path, and Quackity heads home with a yawn. He enjoyed the sunset, but didn’t really feel any better afterward— that sunset view was mainly for Eret, not him. Quackity honestly isn’t sure what would make him happy like sunsets did for the king, but he didn’t think he was going to find it anytime soon.

He suddenly hears shuffling and he snaps his neck around, peering at whoever’s behind him. “Oh. Hey, Fundy.”

Fundy blinks in the moonlight, his ears twitching. “Hello, Mr. Vice President.”

Quackity cringes a little at the formal title and huffs, “You don’t have to call me that, y’know. I’m not... I’m just _Quackity_ , not someone who’s any higher than all of you.”

Fundy tilts his head curiously. “Why’s that? You’ve got the second highest position of power here.”

”That doesn’t mean anything.”

Fundy frowns a little and shrugs. He kicks at the ground and sighs, his tail swishing in the air behind him. After a long period of awkward silence, he says, “Quackity. Are you ah, are you on Schlatt’s side? Like, actually on his side. I know you’re his best friend or whatever, but you seemed... I don’t know, angry, I guess, at the festival.”

Quackity straightens up, on high alert. He observes Fundy’s movements and expressions closely. Is the fox hybrid asking him this because he’s trying to look for potential traitors, or is he genuinely curious? “I should be asking you the same thing.”

Fundy blinks in surprise, before looking down at the ground. “I...” he looks around and pulls Quackity off the Prime Path, as if he’s worried someone will hear. “I’m not. Not after that. What he did... it was fucking ridiculous, man. Tubbo was just a kid, you know?” He shook his head sadly, shoulders drooping. “He didn’t deserve that, traitor or not.”

Quackity relaxes a little, nodding. If Fundy was truly on Schlatt’s side, he’d never admit to something like that, especially not to the Vice President himself. “Yeah. Yeah, I agree. I don’t know whatever went through Schlatt’s mind there, but it wasn’t good.”

“I kinda wish...” Fundy hesitates, eyes conflicted. “I kinda wish I had helped him, or tried to stop Schlatt, or _something_. I wish I helped.” Fundy leans against the wall of a building, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “But instead I listened to Schlatt’s every command, like a fucking dog or something. I didn’t have the courage to stand up to him.” Fundy sounds bitter as he hisses out these words, and Quackity can tell that this isn’t something Fundy could come up with from the top of his head— he’s been holding these feelings in for a while and only just now admitted to some of them. 

Haha, that kind of sounds like what Quackity does. Oh, wait! That’s right, it’s because it _is_ what he does. Quackity ducks his head down, willing himself not to cry for the third time that night. 

“You shouldn’t be guilty, Fundy. Every one of us there could have done something, but we didn’t. We were all scared.” Quackity looks up into the starry night sky, which is still and tranquil as if nothing had ever happened in this world. As if it hasn’t changed for a million years and it’ll stay that way for billions of years to come. “I was right on the podium with them, and I had the best chance to do something than anyone else did. But I took the coward’s way out and stood back, and even then I still died— as Schlatt’s fucking body shield, which is even worse. Do you know how moldy his hands are?” Fundy snorts and smiles a little. 

“They were sticky too, eugh. I still feel like I need a shower even after respawning. You can never recover from his stink, I swear.” 

Fundy chuckles and pushes away from the wall, straightening the hat on his head. He says, “Well, I don’t think anyone’s ever seen him wash his hands, or even clean himself in any shape or form.”

Quackity makes a gagging noise and coughs, “Oh, that’s just _disgusting_. We need a president who actually takes care of themself, so then at least the whole place won’t smell like a dumpster.” Quackity fake shivers and says in a fearful tone, “I can practically smell him now, o-oh god, I can never escape this terrible scent...!”

Fundy laughs out loud, before soon quieting down and looking around at the houses cautiously. “Fuckin’ stinker. He can’t even swim, can you believe it?”

”Haha, that’s right!” Quackity grins and mimics pushing Schlatt out of the water, going, “Oop, no, Mr. President, don’t— ahh, he’s done it again. Well, might as well let him drown this time, eh?” Fundy and Quackity snicker.

They’re more relaxed than when they first saw each other tonight, and Quackity is grateful for it. He’s a little too tired and stressed at the moment to deal with anything big, and to be honest, he hasn’t really joked around with Fundy before. Quackity admits to himself that Fundy’s sense of humor is less bad than he initially thought. 

Fundy looks at his watch and sighs. “I should probably go. I’ve got... I’ve got a few things to attend to.”

Quackity nods, understanding. “Alright. It was nice talking to you, Fundy. Have a good night.”

Fundy smiles and then he’s gone, slinking off to someplace else in the night. 

Quackity sinks down against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment. Even though he was laughing and cracking jokes just a minute ago, it’s hard to completely distract himself from his mistakes. Even though he just told Fundy not to feel guilty about holding himself back from helping Tubbo, he feels even worse about it himself.

At least he got to help another person who was hurting inside tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D i hope you’re enjoying this so far lol
> 
> soon there shall be more angst and the plot shall ✨thicken✨


	3. Tommy

_Manburg was usually a quiet place since Schlatt got elected. The joy was gone from the air, as if Schlatt and his cabinet had sucked the very life out of their country._

_Quackity didn't like it._

_Today, however, music and laughter echoed across the streets and the citizens celebrated at the games and booths scattered around the area. Quackity himself wasn't actually playing around like everyone else, though._

_He felt like something was missing, like something was... wrong. Quackity knew that the festival wasn't perfect, and he was always a perfectionist when it came to things he really cared about. So he was touching up the decorations and making sure everything was in order before Schlatt called everyone to the podium._

_The President gave a short speech, which Quackity honestly couldn't care less about. He wanted to hear Tubbo's speech more, since he knew the kid had worked hard on it, but Quackity had a bad feeling in his gut as Tubbo was called up to the mic._

_Quackity prayed that this time, his instincts were wrong._

\---*---

Quackity wakes up the next morning with bags under his eyes and the base of his wings aching like hell. Maybe flying Eret up there was a bad idea. 

He stretches and tries to loosen up his sore muscles before getting ready for the day. Even though the festival just happened yesterday and people clearly still needed to recover, Schlatt is already putting everyone to work. Bastard.

Quackity stumbles out of the room and adjusts his sunglasses, wincing. It’s been way too long since he’s properly slept, and he admits to himself that _hey, maybe you should sleep more and actually try to stay healthy._

But Quackity is feeling a little self-destructive at the moment.

He only wears his sunglasses on his bad days, and by god, is this a terrible day. He looked in the mirror this morning and didn’t even recognize himself, to be honest. It was a bit disheartening, but he isn’t complaining. He brought it upon himself.

He drags himself to the White House, still only half-awake and yawning. He spots the President in front of the building and stops in his tracks, his eyes zeroing in on the _To Be Demolished_ signs in front of the door and the pickaxe in Schlatt’s moldy hands. Eugh.

”Uh, hey, Mr. President. What’re you doing...?”

Schlatt turns to the Vice and smiles. “What do you think, Quackity? We’re tearing this bitch down.” He laughs and gestures at the signs. Schlatt does not have a pleasant laugh. “To be demolished! Can’t you read?”

Quackity blinks, his brain sluggish as he processed his words. “Wait, what? No, no, wait.”

Quackity moves to stand in front of the dark wooden doors, blocking the President from his White House. Schlatt frowns. “We can’t tear this down, man. I built it, it’s mine—“

Schlatt sneers and rolls his eyes. “Oh, shut up. I’m the fucking president, I do what I want. And what I _want_ is for this ugly thing to be taken down.”

Quackity scowls, offended. “What the fuck, man? This is mine, I fucking built it myself. I’m the vice president.”

“Blah, blah, blah. So what? Aww, you gonna cry about it? You gonna cry? Fucking hell, bro.” Schlatt snarls and raises the pickaxe, fire in his eyes. “Out of my way or I’ll make you move.”

Quackity hesitates, fidgeting with a dark look on his face. He moves to the side.

_CLANG._

The iron pickaxe smashes into the building, Quackity’s pride and joy.

_CRACK._

Quackity watches as his memories with Tommy and Wilbur are torn apart in front of his very eyes. 

_CRASH._

Quackity can’t take this. He grabs Schlatt’s shoulder before he gets to the stairwell, but the goat hybrid shrugs him off and continues. “Stop, stop— fucking _stop!”_

Schlatt ignores him. Schlatt continues to hack away at the stone and wood and glass and shatters the only loyalty Quackity has left for him. 

The bird hybrid backs away, chips of wood and stone flying in every direction. 

Silently, he pulls out a bow. 

Silently, he notches an arrow and draws it.

Silently, he shoots.

A message pops into the sky, clearly visible against the gathering clouds blocking the sun.

_Schlatt was shot by Quackity._

\---*---

Tommy’s eyes widen and he ducks behind the small hill of dirt. What the _fuck?_ He whips his head to stare at Quackity as the man lowers his bow and stares at the President’s body coldly. _What the FUCK?_

Then, Quackity seems to snap out of his daze and looks around wildly before flapping his wings and shooting off into the woods. Tommy’s never seen him fly that fast before.

The teen scrambles after him, looking back at the White House a bit sadly. He’ll never admit it, but he cared about that place too. Memories were made there, and now those memories have shattered.

He jumps onto Techno’s horse and urges it to go as fast as it can. He needs to catch Quackity and talk to him.

The bird hybrid is found leaning against a tree, panting and clutching at his side. Tommy guesses that he’s never flown that fast and got a cramp or some shit. What a loser.

”Big Q?”

Quackity whips around, eyes wide behind his glasses, before whipping out his bow again and saying shakily, “What do you want.”

Tommy holds up his hands, uneasy. “You can put down the bow, I’m not here to hurt you. Jeez.”

”Take off your fucking armor.”

Tommy blinks, then shrugs. He doesn’t need it anyway— this is _Quackity_ he’s dealing with. He tugs off his armor and lays it out on the ground. “Now uh, Big Q. What are you...” Tommy tilts his head, not sure how to go about this. 

“What are you doing in the woods?” a nervous laugh punctuates the end of his sentence. 

“I uh...” Quackity shakes his head and lowers the bow, sighing. “I’m just gonna cut to the chase here, Tommy. Schlatt’s a dick.”

Tommy laughs and says, “Well we already knew that, Big Q. No need to point out the obvious.”

Quackity snorts and sits down on the forest floor, flapping his wings a little. “He’s tearing down the White House. Even though I killed him, I bet he’s still got plenty of respawns left. I shoulda let him drown in the lake at the festival.” 

Quackity leans his head back against a tree, closing his eyes.

”Anyway. How’ve you been, Tommy?”

Tommy sits down next to the man and leans back, looking up at the sky and the fading kill message. “Not too shabby, I suppose. Wilbur’s uh... he’s...” Tommy stops and falls silent. 

Quackity looks at him. The teen now looks dejected, although the bird hybrid can tell that he’s trying to hide it. “Hey, what’s wrong? Is Wilbur okay?”

Tommy’s eyes slide to the side and he studies a bush intently, as if it’s the only interesting thing around. “He’s fine, I guess.” he mumbles.

Quackity raises an eyebrow, skeptical. He decides not to push it. “Okay then. How’s Tubbo?”

Tommy brightens a little at his best friend’s name and smiles. “He’s doing good! Still has some nightmares and shit from the festival, but he’ll get through it. He’s a strong man.”

Quadkity sighs and nods. “Good to hear. Hey I’m uh, I’m sorry. For not stopping it.”

Tommy frowns. “Yeah, you should be. That was a pretty shit move, that was.”

Quackity chuckles humorlessly and props his arm up on his leg, watching the leaves of the trees sway in the wind. “You alright, Tommy? Like, _you_ you.”

Tommy glances at him, surprised. In fact, he isn’t alright— he feels like shit. But that doesn’t mean he has to tell anyone. 

“Yesn’t.”

”What?”

Tommy doesn’t answer and just shrugs. “Yesn’t.”

Quackity cocks his head to the side, like a puppy. Ew. “What the fuck.”

”You’re so dense, Big Q.”

Quackity wheezes. “What? _What?”_

Tommy laughs. Tommy’s laugh is loud and harsh, but not nearly as bad as Schlatt’s. Quackity is relieved that he escaped the President’s laugh.

“I mean it’s true. You know it is—“ Tommy snickers and laughs again as Quackity smacks him on the head with his wing. “Hey!”

Quackity smirks and pokes Tommy on the side. “You shouldn’t talk to your elders like that, Tommy. You’re still a child.”

Tommy gasps, offended, and shouts, “I am _not_ a child! How dare you! I am a man, the biggest man!”

Quackity’s shrieks of laughter fill the forest before they both calm down and continue to just relax and observe the quiet woods around them. 

It's not long before they both get restless again and Quackity clears his throat, a little anxious. "Hey, Tommy?"

"Yeah, big man?"

"Can I join Pogtopia?"

Tommy is silent for a moment, thinking. Quackity honestly doesn't care much if he got in-- he could take down Schlatt himself, or at least try. Honestly, Quackity is just glad he got Tommy to laugh and actually relax. He and Tubbo are too young for all this war business, and Quackity doesn't like how both Wilbur and Schlatt are using _kids_ as political weapons. It isn't right.

"Okay. Okay, you can join. I'd have to see what Wilbur says before we fully trust you, though." Tommy says, fully serious again. Quackity doesn't like seeing Tommy like this, all tense. It doesn't sit well with him seeing a kid burdened with the weight of war and responsibilities.

Quackity scoffs lightheartedly and says, "How could he _not_ trust me? You can always trust someone with a fat ass, Tommy."

Tommy's grin is back and he rolls his eyes. He stands, brushing off his pants, and holds out a hand to help Quackity up. The bird hybrid cocks his head to the side again. "Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you to Pogtopia, my friend!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D i’m so happy you all are enjoying this omg
> 
> also!! i’m sorry about my inconsistent uploads, i don’t really have a schedule lol. 
> 
> some info about respawning in this fic!! each person has a set amount of respawns before they're truly deemed as dead, and the amount a person gets when they're born varies. usually the amount of respawns you get is around thirty, which may seem like a lot at first but goes by fast for a reckless idiot like quackity, tommy, or literally anyone else who dies frequently on the server :))
> 
> anyways, that's why at this point anyone's death is significant, since they're all low on respawns (lots of deaths in the first few wars have happened, of course). most of them keep track of how many respawns they have left since it's a smart thing to do (except a few who are either forgetful or just dumb as bricks /hj)
> 
> also i write a lot of this stuff at like two in the morning, so please don't mind my insults or general assholery, especially in the notes lmaoo


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